


What Costs an Arm and an Eye

by Ruko (reonkuwataa)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: And an excuse for me to take Makida's eye and arm again, Bombs, But not those missing parts, Dismemberment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eye Trauma, Gen, Makida's back everyone, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Really this was just a continuation of a challenge fic, Sibling Rivalry, Well that's putting it lightly, Write what you know huh, press f to pay respects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16206449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reonkuwataa/pseuds/Ruko
Summary: Involvement with a corporation like Umbrella and a substance like the mutamycete wasn't exactly the best course of action for Makida to take when her brother is already far too hungry for power.





	What Costs an Arm and an Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Help me I'm doing it again.  
> This fic is more just to vent since I've been having trauma nightmares as of late, and also because no matter what universe this character is in, it doesn't feel right for her to have both eyes and arms. Ever since she first lost them, she's just been losing them left and right, and it's just a sick tradition now.  
> For those of you that actually read my RE7 stuff, y'all are too sweet. This is a shameful habit of mine to fall back to for writing since I should be getting back to Persona, but I have y'all to enable me. Never stop.  
> Still going off the inspiration from Karma's Bitch, too. Also wrote the end after some shots of both Jack Daniel's and Tequila Rose, so uh, apologies in advance.

“ _We’re so much smarter than them, sis. We can make so much better use of this._ ”  
“ _I ain’t gonna commit treason just because you think you’re some sorta genius that knows what he’s doin’, Satoshi. I guarantee, the minute you get your hands on that stuff, it’ll turn against ya, and you’ll go even more nuts._ ”  
As quotes from times long since past, quotes all in her native language mixed with English for what she herself had forgotten, swirled within Makida’s dreamscape, she saw her brother towering over her as he seemed to when she was a child. She saw him holding the trigger for the bomb he strapped to her left shoulder. She saw the glint in his eye when she denied him for the last time, that familiar look that when they were young, told her she did something wrong.  
Now, she understood, it was the look he gave when she was just in his way.  
“ _Yes, it’s a dangerous thing to play with, I’ll give you that._ ” He knew from the start-- He was taunting her. “ _But think about the benefits. Think about just what it could mean for us. Rapid regeneration, decreased sensitivity to pain, decreased need for sleep… You wouldn’t need to worry yourself over not getting enough sleep for work, right? C’mon, Makida. It’s a simple cure-all right under our noses._ ”  
“ _How the hell would you know what it does?! I ain’t even that high on the totem pole and I know for every pro to that shit, there’s a con! Rapid regen, but your body becomes more mold than flesh! Decreased sensitivity to pain so ya don’t realize when yer almost dead! Decreased need for sleep… Yer graspin’ at straws just to try to sway me!_ ” She wanted to stop the words as they came out of her mouth, but found herself unable, watching her repeat the same actions that had spelled her doom two months ago. And then, the kicker-- How she spat in his face, an act of defiance, and of disrespect.  
How Satoshi, her older brother, the man who promised to take care of her and only succeeded in taking care of himself, wiped it away with a blank stare as he lifted the trigger, stepping back.  
“ _That’s just your problem. You’re a genius, sis, but you’re far too **vulgar.**_ ”  
His thumb slammed the button, the bomb detonated, and she wished it had killed her. She wished it had done more, she wished it was closer to her brain, but it took off her arm instead, the intense heat of the explosion instead burning her face, damaging her foolishly open left eye. She recalled only a fraction of that pain, as in truth it was so immense that she fell unconscious in the chair she was restrained to.  
Instead of focusing on the pain or the aftermath, the blurry sight of Satoshi leaving her for dead, or even the lights of the ambulance that had arrived after what seemed like an eternity, she instead heard the final word he spoke echo in her mind like a broken record. In Japanese, in English.  
Vulgar. Vulgar. Vulgar.  
Even when she was in the hospital, visited by coworkers, her friends, she heard what they told her, but heard her brother’s voice overlaying all other sound. All it would say is the same word, again and again.  
When she was visited by her supervisor, it didn’t stop, but it became quieter. In a way, she rationalized that this voice was intimidated by the presence of this man; his stern demeanor, no-nonsense attitude would have easily overpowered even her stupid, pathetic, stubborn older brother.  
“How’s your condition, Tori?”  
“You still not sayin’ my full last name, Mr. Redfield?” She managed a weak smile, hoping to lighten his mood. However, he just sighed, placing his hand on the side railing of her hospital bed.  
“You still won’t let up on it, so I guess I better start.” It didn’t make him laugh, but she did notice him trying not to crack a smile. Even with only one good eye left, she could notice it. Jackpot. “You still haven’t answered my question.”  
“Docs said my arm ain’t ever gonna be more than a stub, and what’s under the bandages on my face was either grafted back on or, in the case of that fucked up eyeball, just scooped right out of my head.” She shrugged, despite her rather graphic choice of words, as she turned her head to focus her eye on her supervisor. “I qualify for a prosthetic, but it’d take so long, what’s even the point? And I can do my job with just one hand, anyway. Just need to switch fingers for the scanner.” It seemed that he was a bit put off by how nonchalantly she took her situation, but nodded.  
“And your right eye should be fine for the retina scan,” he noted, trying to at least sound pleasant despite the circumstances. Though, in her mind, she was still focused on making light of it all. It was better than wallowing, and who could be mad on the amount of painkillers she was put on? Only the hardest of hardasses.  
So maybe him.  
“Y’know, I could have sworn they just dug out my eye with a melon baller,” she snickered, her grin testing the limits of the new skin on her cheek. “I was knocked the hell out, sure, but when I woke up, it felt like someone just took a scoop and sloooowly yanked it out, snipped the nerves, and maybe even--”  
“Hey,” he interrupted, trying to buy a little time to properly recall how to say her surname. “Torikutsu, that’s enough.”  
Suddenly, despite her knowing it was Chris Redfield that spoke these words, she could only hear her brother.  
“ _That’s a little too **vulgar** considering what happened._ ”  
She remembered everything in her body tightening, her heart rate jumping as the monitor she was hooked to went nuts, her breathing becoming labored as she suddenly heard him yelling-- She never knew if it was at her or for a nurse.  
She recalled spending several weeks in the hospital, constantly on edge that she would be found by Satoshi. She recalled when she heard he was going to be visiting, telling the nurses to forbid it. She remembered him breaking in.  
She remembered faking her own suicide by hanging, a clever use of bedsheets and a sturdy shower curtain rod, as well as using the hospital gown to her advantage.  
However, she also noticed that her brother’s reaction played out far differently. In reality, he was taken aback. He fell on his ass, covering his mouth, scooting backwards across the cold linoleum floor. Making a mad dash for the window he broke to scamper away, convinced that she was dead and never believing otherwise.  
But here, in her dream, he just stared up at her, blankly. Her eyes were only open by a miniscule amount to see his reaction, but he looked right up into them regardless here. That look again.  
“ _How **vulgar.**_ ”  
It was only then when she was finally released from her nightmare, popping up off of her pillow and letting a scream loose across her apartment bedroom.  
This wasn’t optimal at all, especially when that morning was when she went back to work like nothing happened.

It was a fight to get back to work after the mighty cavalcade of bullshit her brother put her through. He was now being kept under the corporation’s watchful eye, and to the rest of the world, Makida had really died in the hospital-- By her own request, though, she wanted to go back to work. Her job, despite it being what got her into this mess, was all she had left at this point. Going to Whattaburger every morning, though the routine now required some reflective sunglasses and a very cleverly fixed jacket with the empty sleeve stuffed and tucked into a pocket; Cleaning up around the facility, wearing that respirator mask in contamination-heavy areas; Talking with coworkers over coffee and cigarettes; Even just seeing that guy that they had locked up, it was all comforting to her. Much more so than sitting around at home, moping, spending days in front of a laptop watching either porn or her favorite shows on Netflix.  
She couldn’t stand wallowing anymore.  
It was only 5AM, according to her phone, but she could start getting ready. The monotony of her apartment made her antsy, and it had been a while since she had a nice, long shower. She put it off ever since leaving the hospital, mainly because she didn’t want to have to look at herself. She didn’t want to face what was left of her to see. But, of course, she gave herself enough time to get over herself.  
Didn’t want to smell like death and look like a rat on the first day back.  
Despite this, it was actually a bit challenging to prep herself after leaving the shower-- It was a strange juggle of objects to style and dry her hair, hairdryer held up by a strange apparatus made of thick, old books and some sort of stand grabbed from her kitchen to prop it up, and careful maneuvering of her hairbrush as well as good use of her swivel chair allowed her to bring out the best in her hair just as she used to. Short, black, feathered bob, curling upwards at the end. Just like old times. But she couldn’t help but look at her scarred face, her vacant eye socket, and wince. She had something the hospital gave her to cover that eye, right…?

“Room service.”  
Ever since that certain encounter, Makida made sure to knock before entering Lucas’ cell. That knock, along with her voice, would always confirm that it was her-- And like Pavlov and his dog, she always pictured him salivating at the sound of her knocking, eagerly awaiting his contraband burger, fries, and cola. Normally, she would laugh at the mental image.  
Not today.  
“Hurry up an’ come in, dammit!” Seemed he was impatient today. Once she unlocked the door, she slid the cart in first-- It was going to be the least shocking thing. Something pulled at the back of her mind, rooting her feet to the floor. What was he going to say? All day she had been given these sickening, pitiful glances, and if he did the same, she would probably snap. She stood, frozen, deliberating.  
“I said come in! You gonna just leave me hangin’ for two fuckin’ months, Maki?!”  
Had it really been that long? She nodded-- It made sense. Three months ago was when her family came to visit, when her brother was given a tour of her job and happened to hear her spill too much information about just what was being researched. A month after that, her father went back home, but he…  
“Maki, god damn it, I know yer out there!! Nobody else gets me the goods like this!”  
She needed to move.  
The door was left ajar, so she grabbed the heavy handle, pulling it back and keeping her good eye closed. She didn’t want to see that look of pity. Not from him, not from the guy she could honestly call her friend despite the situation between himself and the company. Yes, he was dangerous, and more than a bit of an asshole, but they talked so often-- They related to each other. And now she’d have to be faced with--  
“Whaaaat the fuuuuuck…?”  
That reaction got her eye to snap open, and she didn’t see a look of pity. No, that was shock. Morbid curiosity. Imagination running wild in that head of his to try to piece together what the hell happened to her. Gears turning, finally clicking after a long silence.  
“Jesus, woman, didya give a shark a handy or somethin’?! The fuck happened to you?” She would laugh at that, and it hurt to acknowledge that she couldn’t. Her eye darted around, constantly trying to avoid contact as she thought carefully over her answer. She could just tell him the truth… With a sigh, she resolved to do just that.  
“It was a bomb, Lucas. Slapped on my shoulder, melted half my goddamn face, left barely any eyeball in the socket, and took the whole damn arm off.” There was silence once more before he nodded, still giving no pity, but actually seeming impressed.  
“Obviously ain’t tryin’ to kill ya, then. Back when they got me, I took out a couple’a soldiers with bombs on their necks, simple shit. If it was anywhere else, it mighta not killed ‘em. What kinda fuckin’ moron straps a bomb to someone with no intent to make sure they’re dead?” She grit her teeth as she finally made eye contact with him again. Moron? That wasn’t giving him enough credit at all-- He _wanted_ to either leave her for dead or a deformed freak to live out the rest of her life miserable and pitied. He would have finished the job and made her suffering shorter if she hadn’t pulled the stunt she did. She wanted to live, she didn’t want to die by his hands, but the longer she lived like this, the more she questioned why she didn’t just hang herself for real.  
Lucas seemed to note her tension, and rather than back off, leaned in with a new curiosity. “Hey, was it somebody here tryin’ to keep ya quiet ‘bout somethin’? Or did they find out about our lil’ fast food deal? I doubt you’d get yer arm blown off over that, though-- Sounds more like somethin’ I’d do than what they’d do. Or, hey, ya said you were in service? Did ya go back and live through an attack on base? I mean, ya were gone for two months, even if yer retired from--”  
“Stop,” she finally spat, interrupting his nonstop stream of guesses in its tracks, “Just… Stop. It’s way too complicated for me to talk about, Lucas, and I been losin’ sleep over it. Just lemme know yer happy with the food so I can be on my way.”  
She almost regretted interrupting him, worried for a moment that he would be angry. She flinched after this realization, expecting to be hit, eye shut tight, though the hit never came. That eye opened, locking onto a very confused and even more curious man across from her. Why did she even expect to be hit? She wanted to chide herself, but he gave her no opportunity, cutting right back in.  
“Maki, how long we known each other now? Not countin’ yer little ‘vacation’, it’s been about… What, five months?” She bit her lower lip, lowering her guard as she combed her mind for the correct answer only to find his own to be true. She gave a resigned nod.  
“Uh-huh. And you’d come talk to me pretty often since we made that deal about the food. Hell, you worked on yer goddamn birthday, remember? You fuckin’ told me, complained about it, and come to find out from some other staff that you _voluntarily_ went in that day! Either yer a masochist, a workaholic, or we’re friends. So which is it?”  
“Friends,” she answered, speaking barely above a whisper as her shoulders slouched. However, her simple answer just gave him more cause for concern; he reached for her shoulder, the one that still held an arm, and held his hand there. Any other time, Makida would be concerned about that iron grip, but not now.  
“Ya ain’t even jokin’ around like you used to. What the hell happened, Maki?”  
She could no longer debate whether or not it would be right to tell him-- Here he was, showing not curiosity as a prisoner with an escape plan, but concern as a friend. She didn’t even care if it was genuine or some ploy to get her guard lowered. It was right for him to know.

It took a long time to get her to tell the full story. She stumbled over words, she stopped and cried a handful of times, and she even found herself reaching out to place her hands on his knees to brace herself only to painfully recall she only had one to steady herself. Despite her setbacks and roadblocks, she managed to choke out what had happened, what was pertinent, even what had haunted her. All the while, he still refused to look at her with pity, but instead kept himself focused on her words, letting them soak in before giving a nod once she finished speaking.  
“So… That rat bastard wanted the mold, crippled his sister when he couldn’t get to it, and now he thinks yer dead? Shit, sounds like it’s all over and done with to me, but I get it. Sticks in yer head for way too long, I get it.” He _got_ it? He had to be mistaken. If anything, he was the one _giving_ people those traumas, not being on the receiving end, surely! Gritting her teeth, she snapped her head up to glare directly into his eyes.  
“The fuck do you mean?! Every fuckin’ part of you’s intact! Don’t fuckin’ try to give me that ‘I know how ya feel’ bullshit when--”  
“First of all, you calm yer ass down,” he snapped back, holding up a hand to stop her barking. “Second, not only is rapid regen still a fuckin’ thing with me, but y’know what, Maki? You don’t know the first thing about my past beyond what’s on my fuckin’ file.”  
“Lucas, the company documented every goddamn thing they found, everything you fuckin’ _did--_ ”  
“So y’know about that journal they found in my old room, then?” In the haze of anger, her memory was faulty, but it did sound familiar. She forced herself to calm down, her memory racing to try to match something to his description before it finally clicked.  
“Yeah, from when you were a kid or somethin’. What’s that got to do with anything?” His face twisted with frustration as he pinched the skin between his eyes, surprising Makida with the fact that there was loose skin enough to pinch before he spoke again.  
“Then you fuckin’ remember where it said I killed that kid Oliver? Starved him in my attic or some shit?”  
“Yeah, gave the company the idea that you were always fucked up in the head. What’s the use of confessin’ yer crimes when yer already in jail?--”  
“ _God damn it, woman, lemme finish fuckin’ talkin’!!_ ”  
She shifted uncomfortably, flinching at the sound of his raised voice, but she did at least shut up. If he had something worthwhile to say about something she already knew, it better be equally worthwhile to her.  
“Just callin’ me names wouldn’t be enough to piss me off that hard, I’ll tell ya that, even when I was a kid. Your brother, guy who did this to ya, if ya had the chance, would ya kill him? No matter what yer answer is, proves my point: There’s a _lot_ more shit that kid did to me that I didn’t write down.” As he spoke, she very visibly twitched, her mind going right to the subtle manipulation her brother achieved over time-- Things she didn’t even question until he actually pressed the trigger. There was simple schoolyard bullying, which she had been through, which was solved with a swift kick to the undescended but still sensitive testicles with her vicious little boots, but she knew that wasn’t what Lucas was implying. Not at all. This wasn’t something solved with a boot to the nards, not what he had been through.  
In fact, the more she let his implications sink in, the more she realized she should have probably not let her anger talk before her sense could.  
“I… Yeah, I see. So ya… Ya _do_ get it.” He nodded curtly, expression still stern as he folded his arms and sat upright.  
“Yer goddamn right. And I have nightmares ‘bout it, too. Granted, I ain’t gonna go off because of a single word, but I got my little reminders that twist my stomach, too. Ya ain’t exactly alone there.” She wanted to speak up again, to mention how he could never know how she had to deal with missing body parts due to his regeneration, but she decided to hold her tongue that time. Instead, she just glanced at her empty jacket sleeve, then brought her hand to that white patch over her empty eye socket.  
“I just dunno how I’m gonna live with all this bullshit, Lucas. It’s fuckin’ unfair.”  
“Life ain’t fair,” he shot back, quick on the draw with that nugget of wisdom before he took a breath to settle himself. “‘Sides, takes some fuckin’ balls to open up about it so early, ‘specially to someone that could probably kill you, someone ya gotta restrain and contain. Did ya forget I’m a prisoner here?” Actually, for a hot second, she did. The realization made her pale, though that drop in her face just made him laugh-- No, _cackle._ Loud and echoing through the cell, he cackled before placing his hand on her good shoulder again.  
“Yeah, no shit, Maki, I want out. But I ain’t gonna kill ya. You and me, I think we can get along just fuckin’ fine, maybe we could even do somethin’ about that brother of yours. Give him a nice surprise before he gets a taste of his own medicine.”  
“Are you just tryin’ to tempt me now, Lucas? I could lose my job, goddamn it, and retirement funds ain’t as much as the paycheck here.”  
“Relax, relax. I ain’t gonna rely entirely on you when I break out, nah. Just offerin’ the chance-- If ya wake up on one of yer few days off to a tappin’ on the window, you’ll know the chance’s still on the table.”  
“Part of me wonders if it’ll be that or if ya just wanna quick fuck before goin’ back to bein’ an outlaw.”  
“Bit of column A, bit of column B. Just be ready for me either way, Maki.”


End file.
